January 10th, 2007

drive train _ netcurmudgeon

scene one. take six thousand.

frankwu bought a typewriter. There are many like it, but this one is mine. 

I used to have a Royal portable. THUMP THUMP THUMP CHING.

Good machine.

My current process is too damned nonlinear for typewriters, alas. I miss them.



I should get some words. If I knew what the words should be.

If I knew exactly what it was that Azrael was trying to extort out of Dust, I could try to get some words. But since I do not, I shall work on my page proofs for a while (page 91 or 272) and then I shall take a hot bath and then perhaps I shall go to the gym and see if the ski machine has anything to tell me.

As well. I got my three pages last night (I've been a day ahead) so if the not-Angels are going to sulk and be not-Helpful, it can happen. And anyway, there's always tonight.



The New Amsterdam proofs may be boring the heck out of me (do you have any idea how many times I have read "Wax" at this point?) but they are reminding me of something.

I love Jack Priest almost as much as Sebastien does. And if I get through "Wane," I can get back to a story with Jack in it.

Push! Push!
twain & tesla

if no eyes, avoid all contact

Chapter 7 of "Lucifugous" is up!

In which Sebastien wishes for a Zaubererdetektiv, and wonders what on earth is wrong with him.

And I'm on page 146 of the page proofs for New Amsterdam*, and I swear I am going to go wash my hair as soon as I finish reading this story, because it is too icky to stand.



*which of course you can pre-order there. ;-)**

**I know, it's like one long commercial, isn't it?  If only it had cat herding.
bear by san

they dragged him through the underbrush wearing three winter coats and a -- dirty knife

From the department of uncomfortable personal truths, I've just realized that whenever I have a character I wish I could bring home to meet my mother...

...there's no chance on earth s/he's making it out of the book alive.

Yeah, well, okay, maybe that explains why I'm 35 and single.



I'm on the last story in New Amsterdam. Thank God. Page 206 of 272. Unfortunately, this means that I am less than seventy pages from having to figure out what the hell Azrael wants from Dust.

See, the thing is, I know what he wants. And I know what this scene is doing structurally, why it has to be here in narrative terms. I need to establish him for the audience. I need to show his relationship with Dust. I need to establish what he's trying to do, so the reader knows what's at stake.

I just don't know what he's after in this particular scene. The character reason he's talking to Dust.

I know, in other words, the craft. I have not found the art.

And I need him to want something concrete and be working to get it, both to drive the plot and to prevent them having one of those annoying vague villain conversations.

Also, FYI, the Tori Amos cover of "Angie" takes Mick Jagger out back the woodshed. As if you needed to be told.






ETA via snurri: Mulder/Scully in 300 words or less.

Best. Fanfic. Evar.

Amen.
evile overbear

DONE!

And the damned thing made me choke up again.

Thank God that's over with.

To celebrate, here's a picture of leahbobet and me and stillsostrange at WFC, courtesy of netmouse. (in which we win friends and influence people)

And since there will be no words today (I did today's words last night, because I knew I had to do the galleys), here are some reviewy things.

Liz Williams says nice things about Blood & Iron.

Lois Tilton says nice things about "Love Among the Talus."

Now I go eat.

Starving.
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